Ezran
"Look alive."
Prince Ezran Selran Taake of Darkthrone
[ ♚ ] A G E
16
[ ♚ ] G E N D E R
Male
[ ♚ ] I D E N T I T Y
Aladori
[ ♚ ] A P P E A R A N C E
Like most of his house, Ezran is a grim figure. Pale, lithe, with hair the color of his long shadow and eyes like burnt gold, his regality is easily recognized. His clothes are a mixed of sharp, dark finewear, draped over in furs, heavy black pelts shorn from the hides of great beasts, to accommodate the north-eastern chill, as well as lend an imposing air.
Though most Taake men tend to grow thick, wiry beards, Ezran is yet bald-faced, with features leaning him more towards femininity than his family might have hoped.
On tradition, all of the Taake family, as well as many of the most revered nobles of their court, carry beautifully crafted blades as signs of status. Ezran is no exception, and he carries a bastard sword at his hip. The blade is stained nearly white, the hilt wrapped in tight black leather with a round pommel at its base. Doubtless the least embellished sword in the Taake family, but no less a respectable work, its proven to hold its own and present a fair challenge in combat.
[ ♚ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y
The Darkthrone people are, by and large, a mirror of the land they inhabit. Harsh, unforgiving, and cold. This is exemplified by their royalty, the Taake family, who have long governed with a hard, yet just, regime. The Taake’s command respect from their people through strength and unbreakable will.
And so, a meek child, who strays towards anxiousness, constant indecision, and self-doubt, would represent the antithesis to their family’s idea of a proper heir. Ezran would be hard-pressed to disagree, and yet the description fits him perfectly, a fact he is made constantly and consistently aware of.
Because of this, Ezran came to understand that he best served his House in silence. He had no knack for speaking to the vicious whirlpool that was the Darkthrone nobility, every word from his mouth only promising further condemnation. This habit has stuck with him through his childhood, and to this day he remains a young man of few, albeit carefully chosen, words, preferring to listen.
At least in one area crucial to his role he was not a failure. Ezran took to the sword young, and he took to it well. His father spotted this eagerly, quick to ensure that his son’s as-yet one redeeming talent would be fostered properly. And thus swordplay became as therapy to the boy, rousing his mind in the mornings and easing it of troubles at night. He could trust a blade in his hand, another limb, practically, and perhaps the truest way for him to feel “safe” in a home that, for all he could see and hear, did not want him there.
[ ♚ ] C H I L D H O O D
Since the first of their name, Taake kings, queens, princes and princesses have all been figures of strength and terror. They suffered no cowards, no insults, no weakness, their house was stronger for it. A common tale among the Darkthrone people is that Taake infants are born silent, and nursed in the cold of their lofty keep.
Then came Ezran. Despite his father’s best efforts, he could do little to quell the rumors that spread within the confines of his court. In hush they’d say Ezran wailed so loudly at birth the queen’s ears bled. They’d say he could not bear the cold as the Taake’s did, and that when he crawled onto his father’s throne as a child, it had struck him ill out of spite.
Though little of this slander reaches the common folk, few among the Darkthrone nobility believe Ezran a capable ruler, now or ever. Some call him “Ezran the Coward”, others, “Ezran the Cursed”. Either way, the fact that King Taake has all but ceased attempting to silence such venom and the noblemen spreading it speaks, even in silence, to his stance on the matter.
Ezran did much of his growing up around his uncle, Yvoddan –or as he came to be known, “Vodd”–, a man Taake to the marrow. He found no warmth in Vodd, but a frigid care and protection. Alone Ezran would enter a room to narrowed eyes and sneers, but trailing his uncle’s thick coat, all eyes would be down, all expressions statuesque.
In addition to Vodd, the boy spent an equal amount of time in lessons with his father’s First Knight, Ser Mara. Warmer than Vodd, but tough enough to assert that she was his teacher before she was his friend, Ezran was always eager to train with her, to spend hours learning and hours later practicing. It was through her he gained his proficiency with a blade, and towards his departure for the academy, his first shred of self-confidence.
In the lulls between lessons and accompanying his uncle about his duties, Ezran spent much of his time holed away in his room, avoiding the harsh eyes that lurked throughout Darkthrone Keep.
[ ♚ ] M O T I V E S
A myriad of reasons led to Ezran attending the academy. Some regarding a need to learn the intricacies of ruling, the ins and outs of diplomacy and the talents required of a presentable, noble king. Others leaned towards his lack of confidence, something he’d heard his father once call “a death wish for Taake’s.” Initially initial hurt, he agreed.
And yet, despite a sound case for departure, there was, concealed from him, darker stirrings. The king’s complacency for his son’s shortcomings was at first merely the topic of gossip, but as Ezran grew from a frightened child to a poor heir, this gossip, some say, began to blossom into a much more malicious form.
Perhaps safety played a role in this decision as well.
[ ♚ ] C R E D E N T I A L S
Diplomacy: As stated, Ezran only tends to speak casually around close company, and is reserved in most other situations. Understandably, this leaves his knowledge in the art insofar as politics are concerned, rather slim.
Faith: Neither overtly devout nor heinously sacrilegious, the Taake’s faith has diminished over the rule of the current king. Ezran grew up with only basic knowledge of Gaea, and came to understand that his family had begun putting more stock in the self than what he’d heard any a time called “a silent god”.
Intrigue: Ezran learned over the years that his uncle was feared for many reasons, one of which being his cunning nature. He learned from Vodd a great many sly things that some might consider sinister, even if he seems naïve to their underhanded nature.
Magic: Perhaps the subject in which Ezran is the least knowledgeable. The Taake court was home to few magically-gifted, and fewer who would voluntarily educate the prince. When Ezran showed early interest in the blade, king Taake all but forgot any need to teach his child the arts of magic.
Martial: Over the years, swordplay has become Ezran’s truest source of comfort. Trained by the king’s most trusted knight from his earliest interest, his proficiency for combat, both physically and mentally, is doubtless his greatest strength.
Stewardship: Ezran doesn’t pretend to be a mathematician, or to understand the economy of his land. However, he’s forged at least a modestly logical mind from his uncle.
[ ♚ ] C O M P A N I O N S
Yvoddan Taake: Ezran’s uncle, and without a doubt, the most feared man in Darkthrone Keep, if not the region as a whole. A warrior in his early years, now gray and boney yet no less intimidating, Vodd is a shrewd diplomat that has not ceased to leave dismay in his wake, despite having long since put away his violent past.
He stands at around five foot seven, with a face of sharp edges ending in a thick, tapering beard. Though age has turned once proud scars ugly, one feature that has not changed from his youth are his eyes. Violent emeralds deep enough to invite caution to those that meet them, yet sharp enough to stand out in a crowd. If Vodd turns his eyes upon someone, they are generally aware.
He travels as well with a relic of his past years, a flamberge nearly as old as himself, only in far better condition. Around Darkthrone keep, he'd often carry it in ceremony, and while some of the quietest whispers doubt his ability to wield it any longer, none have dared to question him openly.
Ser Mara: Not a royal, not even a noble, but King Taake’s First Knight nonetheless. At Ezran’s behest, Mara regaled the young prince with many a story of how she clawed her way to Darkthrone Keep. A fierce warrior, even now at fifty years, she insisted on accompanying Ezran to The Conclave. Allegedly Vodd had a hand in convincing the king in allowing this, but he allowed it all the same.
Not quite as tall as Vodd, but still an imposing woman of muscle beneath black plate and fur lining. Her armor includes a helmet, but she tends to forgo it outside of large-scale battle, preferring the allowance of vision. As far as armaments go, she carries a longsword at one hip, and a curved dagger at the other, her combative style generally utilizing both at once.
The sword, engraved as "Blind", is seldom drawn in public; the Taake Court has even adopted a saying for the white-steel blade. "Noble Mara draws it for two reasons, once to clean it, and again to bloody it."
[ ♚ ] R E L A T I O N S
Princess Anareliea Ayelet Hulevia: Ezran met the young lady of the Imperium only once, and while he marks the encounter as at least being relatively harmless, he found himself off put by her all the same. The Taake's have slipped from devout faith, a fact he feared was starkly apparent. He bears no ill-will towards the girl for her arguably zealous beliefs, and can even respect such devotion. That said, he isn't eager to debate theology with her, or even voice his own views, uninformed as they may be.
Princess Rhelissa Sevareviel Fel: Ezran did not meet many members of royalty from outside of Darkthrone, less at his own will than his father's. Visitors were like breaths of fresh air, even if he didn't always interact with them, their presence was appreciated. Rhelissa he remembers well, and fondly all things considered. Cold but lacking his family's directed harshness, younger yet incredibly knowledgeable, and, importantly, interesting to listen to. She had once mentioned to him a suspicion of a plot between their parents, a union of houses in marriage, and he was quick to voice his doubt. Perhaps in hindsight there was credit to her theory, but he maintains, at least in his mind, that his father would sooner throw himself from the keep before marrying him off as he was.
Prince Ydrian Kareth Hawkheart: Having never met the prince of Kalcia, Ezran has only the words of his uncle to form his opinion upon. They share similarities in age and a practice for swordplay, which he finds somewhat worrying, as he's heard customs often favor establishing oneself through duels, a prospect Ezran is none too keen on.
Prince Edgar Kazimir Marlowe:
